The Log School-House on the Columbia
Total Page:16
File Type:pdf, Size:1020Kb
THE t ON JOG SCHOOL-HOUSE THE (OLUMBIA A TALE OF THE PIONEERS OF THE GREAT NORTHWEST BY HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH ILLUSTRATED NEW YORK D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 1890 COPYRIGHT. 189(1, D. Al'PLETON AND COMPANY. I 7 PKEFACE. A YEAR or more ago one of the librarians in charge of the young people's books in the Boston Public Library called my attention to the fact that there were few books of popular information in regard to the pioneers of the great Northwest. The librarian suggested that I should write a story that would give a view of the heroic lives of the pioneers of Oregon and Washington. Soon after this interview I met a distinguished educator who had lately returned from the Colum- bia Kiver, who told me the legend of the old chief who died'of grief in the grave of his son, somewhat in the manner described in this volume. The le- gend had those incidental qualities that haunt a susceptible imagination, and it was told to me in such a dramatic way that I could not put it out of my mind. A few weeks after hearing this haunting legend 894427 4 PREFACE. I went over the Kocky Mountains by the Canadian Pacific Railway, and visited the Columbia River and the scenes associated with the Indian story. I met in "Washington, Yesler, Denney, and Hon. El- the historian visited the of wood Evans, ; daughter Seattle, the chief, "Old Angeline"; and gathered original stories in regard to the pioneers of the Puget Sound country from many sources. In this atmosphere the legend grew upon me, and the out- growth of it is this volume, which, amid a busy life of editorial arid other work, has forced itself upon my experience. H. B. 28 WORCESTER STREET, BOSTON, July 4, 1890. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. GRETCHEN'S VIOLIN 9 II. THE CHIEF OF THE CASCADES .... 27 III. "BOSTON TILICUM" 43 " IV. MRS. WOODS'S TAME BEAR, LITTLE ROLL OVER" 67 V. THE NEST OF THE PISHING EAGLE ... 75 VI. THE MOUNTAIN LION 86 VII. THE "SMOKE-TALK" . .95 VIII. THE BLACK EAGLE'S NEST OF THE FALLS OF THE MISSOURI 114 IX. GRETCHEN'S VISIT TO THE OLD CHIEF OF THE CASCADES 127 " X. MRS. WOODS MEETS LITTLE " ROLL OVER AGAIN 146 XL MARLOWE MANN'S NEW ROBINSON CRUSOE . 154 XII. OLD JOE MEEK AND MR. SPAULDING . .162 XIII. A WARNING 170 XIV. THE POTLATCH 181 XV. THE TRAUMEREI AGAIN . 196 6 CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XVI. A SILENT TRIBE 204 XVII. A DESOLATE HOME AND A DESOLATE PEOPLE . 215 XVIII. THE LIFTED CLOUD THE INDIANS COME TO THE SCHOOLMASTER 221 HISTORICAL NOTES. I. Vancouver 229 II. The Oregon Trail 232 III. Governor Stevens 236 IV. Seattle the Chief 239 V. Whitman's Ride for Oregon 244 VI. Mount Saint Helens . 250 LIST OF ILLUSTKATIONS. PAGE Gretchen at the Potlatch Feast . E. J. Austen Frontispiece Indians spearing fish at Salmon Palls 16 " Here were mountains grander than Olympus." The North Puyallup Glacier, Mount Tacoma . 28 In the midst of this interview Mrs. Woods appeared at the door of the cabin A. E. Pope . 73 The eagle soared away in the blue heavens, and the flag streamed after him in his talons . E. J. Austen . 84 The mountain lion . D. Carter Beard . 92 An Indian village on the Columbia . 130 Afar loomed Mount Hood ... 185 A castellated crag arose solitary and solemn 142 At the Cascades of the Columbia . 183 Multnomah Falls in earlier years. Redrawn by Walter C. Greenough 205 The old chief stood stoical and silent . E. J. Austen . 209 Middle block-house at the Cascades . 242 THE LOG SCHOOL-HOUSE ON THE COLUMBIA. CHAPTER I. GEETCHEN'S VIOLIN. AN elderly woman and a German girl were walking along the old Indian trail that led from the northern mountains to the Columbia River. The river was at this time commonly called the Oregon, as in Bryant's poem : " Where rolls the Oregon, And no sound is heard save its own dashings." The girl had a light figure, a fair, open face, and a high forehead with width in the region of ideality, and she carried under her arm a long black case in which was a violin. The woman had lived in one of the valleys of the Oregon for sev- eral years, but the German girl had recently arrived in one of the colonies that had lately come to the 10 THE LOG SCHOOL-HOUSE ON THE COLUMBIA. of the Kev. territory under the missionary agency Jason Lee. There came a break in the tall, cool pines that lined the trail and that covered the path with glim- mering shadows. Through the opening the high summits of Mount St. Helens glittered like a city in the air. The of pearl, far, far away clear, bright and her feet stumbled. girl's blue eyes opened wide, " There, there you go again down in the hol- ? I think low ! Haven't you any eyes would you had by the looks of them. Well, Gretchen, they were placed right in the front of your head so as to look forward would have been in the ; they put top of your head if it had been meant that you should look up to the sky in that way. What is it you see?" " Oh, mother, I wish I was an author." " An author ! "What put that into your simple head ? You meant to say you would like to be a poet, but you didn't dare to, because you know I don't approve of such things. People who get such flighty ideas into their loose minds always find the world full of hollows. No, Gretchen, I am willing you should play on the violin, though some of the do not of that and that Methody approve ; you should finger the musical glasses in the evening GRETCHEN'S VIOLIN. H have a sound and soothe like they religious me, ; but the reading of poetry and novels I never did ' countenance, except Methody hymns and the Fool of Quality,' and as for the writing of poetry, it is a Boston notion and an ornary habit. Nature is all full of poetry out here, and what this country needs is pioneers, not poets." There came into view another opening among the pines as the two went on. The sun was ascend- ing a cloudless sky, and far away in the cerulean arch of glimmering splendors the crystal peaks and domes of St. Helens appeared again. The girl stopped. " " What now ? said the woman, testily. " " Look yonder ! " Look yonder what for ? That's nothing but a mountain, a great waste of land all piled up to the sky, and covered with a lot of ice and snow. I don't see what they were made for, any way just to make people go round, I suppose, so that the world will not be too easy for them." " Oh, mother, I do not see how you can feel so out here ! I never dreamed of anything so beau- " tiful ! " Feel so out here ! What do you mean ? Haven't I always been good to you ? Didn't I give 12 THE LOG SCHOOL-HOUSE ON THE COLUMBIA. you a good home in Lynn after your father and mother died ? Wasn't I a mother to you ? Didn't I nurse you through the fever ? Didn't I send for you to come way out here with the immigrants, and did you ever find a better friend in the world " than I have been to you ? " Yes, mother, but" " And don't I let you play the violin, which the " Methody elder didn't much approve of ? "Yes, mother, you have always been good to me, and I love you more than anybody else on earth." There swept into view a wild valley of giant clear trees, and rose above it, a scene of overwhelm- ing magnificence. " Oh, mother, I can hardly look at it isn't it splendid ? It makes me feel like crying." The practical, resolute woman was about to say, " Well, look the other way then," but she checked the rude words. The girl had told her that she loved her more than any one else in the world, and the confession had touched her heart. " Well, Gretehen, that mountain used to make me feel so sometimes when I first came out here. I always thought that the mountains would look peakeder than they do. I didn't think that they GRETCHEN'S VIOLIN. 13 would take up so much of the land. I suppose that they are all well enough in their Avay, but a pioneer woman has no time for sentiments, except hymns. I don't feel like you now, and I don't think that I ever did. I couldn't learn to play the violin and the musical glasses if I were to try, and I am sure that I should never go out into the woodshed to try to rhyme sun with fun; no, Gretchen, all such follies as these I should shun. What difference does it make whether a word rhymes with one " word or another ? To the eye of the poetic and musical German girl the dead volcano, with its green base and frozen rivers and dark, glimmering lines of carbon, seemed like a fairy tale, a celestial vision, an ascent to some city of crystal and pearl in the sky. To her foster mother the stupendous scene was merely a worthless waste, as to Wordsworth's unspiritual wanderer : " A primrose by the river's brim, A yellow primrose was to him, And it was nothing more." She was secretly pleased at Gretchen's wonder and surprise at the new country, but somehow she felt it her duty to talk querulously, and to check the flow of the girl's emotions, which she did much to 14 THE LOG SCHOOL-HOUSE ON THE COLUMBIA.